


City of the Big Shoulders

by Fiondi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Memories, Smoking, Teen Years, Teenagers, Underage Smoking, Young Dean, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiondi/pseuds/Fiondi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Dean's nights.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	City of the Big Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, a little bit, by~
> 
> Chicago  
> BY CARL SANDBURG
> 
> Hog Butcher for the World,  
> Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,  
> Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;  
> Stormy, husky, brawling,  
> City of the Big Shoulders:
> 
> They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.  
> And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.  
> And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.  
> And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:  
> Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.  
> Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;  
> Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,  
> Bareheaded,  
> Shoveling,  
> Wrecking,  
> Planning,  
> Building, breaking, rebuilding,  
> Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,  
> Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,  
> Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,  
> Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people,  
> Laughing!  
> Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Now, this is definitely still a work in progress. And it's under the "teen and up" tag because of the underage smoking and cussing... yeah, yeah, call me a prude, whatever. So I have a ton of ideas of where this could go, but still need to sort that out. To clear things up a little- I think, so far, that I've decided this time the Winchesters are in Chicago. This may or may not end up implying that Dean had to turn to prostitution in order to provide for Sammy due to John's drinking problem- and before you stop reading, don't worry! I'll change the tags if need be. As of right now, this is not angsty. Yet. It's just Dean smoking (he's like 15 in this). Anyway, enjoy, and try to not judge me too harshly~

It was a Friday. Dean was leaning against a building, and the damp, crusty walls would have given him chills if it weren't for his father's leather jacket.

     His eyes roamed the cold city streets, and he ignored the "No Loitering" sign just halfway down the block, but he did take note of the guy hunkered down on the sidewalk a few yards away from him. It was dark out, except for the incessant flicker of neon billboards advertising _"The Best Girls in Town!",_ as well as the sign of the corroding motel where Sam lay fast asleep.

     Dean slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a half-empty box of cigarettes he jacked from some jerk that pushed a girl with dimples and a cheap push-up bra. He stuck his hand deeper into his pocket and felt his way past some loose change as he looked for the lighter he found on the ground somewhere, but it must have fallen out sometime during the day. Dean almost smirked. It was probably somewhere in the janitor's closet at school.

     Dean was about to close the pack and put it away when the bum slouched against the wall reached out his lanky arm with a _Bic_ lighter in his bony hand.

     "Here," the man mumbled through his grungy beard. Dean blinked a couple times, but took the lighter. "Just don't steal it…" the old man grumbled.

     Dean looked away, flipped open the pack again, and after a couple _clicks_ lit a cigarette.

     "Thanks," Dean said as he gave the man a slight nod and threw the lighter back to him. The homeless guy barely caught it by the tips of his fingers, and only shrugged in reply as he readjusted the grimy blanket that he had wrapped around his narrow shoulders. He pulled out his own box of cigarettes from his torn shirt pocket and emptied the contents into his hand - a penny that flew up at him from the bottom of someone's shoe as they walked by, and just one cigarette. He gave it a long look before he lit it.

     Dean tried not to think about where else that lighter had been as he brought the lit cigarette to his shiny, but chapped lips. He breathed in, then coughed up the smoke and frowned.

     "First smoke?" the old man asked as his crummy eyes looked up at Dean. He nodded at the man as he lazily waved the smoke away from his verdant eyes. Dean took another drag and tried to _not_ look like he was about to choke. He stared at the stolen cigarette, then let it fall to the wet concrete beneath his feet before he stomped it out with the heel of his boot. His eyes followed the last bit of smoke as it left with a biting gust of wind - then Dean noticed the old man was watching.

     "It's bad for you, anyway," Dean said. He refused to let a homeless man make him feel guilty about a wasted cigarette.

     The man scoffed. "Like I ever cared…" he answered. He left the cigarette in his mouth for a second to rub his hands together.

     Dean looked down at the man. His eyebrows went up a little as he reached into his pocket again, and his hand returned with the now almost-empty box of cigarettes. Dean gave it to the man along with a few quarters, but the bum didn't say anything. He just squinted as Dean walked off, rounded the corner, and disappeared into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome :)


End file.
